


A time of love and losses

by ElliAchtoy



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, 6 Things, All her family and friends deserve better, And it's mostly my headcanon on her, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Except they are all dead, F/M, I just love Mon Mothma so much, Poor Mon, Really love her, So I spent a lot of time writing this thing, So it will probably make little sense for you, Sorry Not Sorry, We all know that Bail and Breha and Padmé died, she deserves better, you're going to suffer but you're going to be happy about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliAchtoy/pseuds/ElliAchtoy
Summary: Six times Mon Mothma loved someone.Five times she lost them, one time didn't.





	1. Mentorship – Bail (4ABY)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based mostly on the former EU - not because I don't like the new one, but because I do not know it as well as the original one.  
> So, FYI, books like "Leia, Princess of Alderaan" and the "Aftermath" trilogy are not taken into account here. On the contrary, I've drawn inspiration from *plenty* of books from the former EU. There will be a couple of minuscole references to "Rebels", at some point, but they're not that important. 
> 
> That said, a couple of things for you to know before embarking into this emotional rollercoaster.
> 
> First of all, I have no idea how I ended up creating this giganormous headcanon of mine on Mon Mothma.  
> I know I liked her in the OT (in that one scene she seemed so strong!), and then I adored her in "Revenge of the Sith" and "Clone Wars" (and then "Rebels", WOW).  
> Then, I loved her in the books, and I loved her friendship with Bail, Breha and Padmé. And, all of a sudden, they looked like a family to me. I imagined them being more than just colleagues in the Senate - I actually saw them as best pals, having a drink in one's apartment at the 500 Republic, gossiping and arguing and facing the incoming disaster together. 
> 
> And I needed to find a father to Mon Mothma's former canonical children, Jobin and Lieda. And I don't know how I ended up shipping *so hard* Mon Mothma and Bail Antilles, Breha's cousin and Bail's predecessor as Senator of Alderaan. I do think it's because I generally like minor characters and so I create huge backgrounds for them, and also because I really liked Antilles in the "Cloak of Deception" book (it might also have something to do with my undying love for Adrian Dunbar, honestly).  
> Something just clicked in my mind, and it seemed so right, and now he and Mon Mothma are my OTP in this fandom.
> 
> In short, this fanfic is going to be an attempt to put down in writing my headcanon, because I think her pain has never been truly analysed in any way. As such, it might be unclear and complicated and incomplete in some parts, but I felt the need to put this thing in writing to be able to reread it (and feel curiously happy about it). I'm sorry if some parts results murky for you.
> 
> I swear the next notes will not be this long.  
> Also, English is not my native language, sorry for any mistake :/

**Mentorship – Bail (4ABY)**

_“A mentor is someone who sees more talent and ability within you,_  
_than you see in yourself, and helps bring it out of you.”_  
— Bob Proc **tor**

At first, she thinks she loves him.

***

She is barely nineteen when she is elected at the Senate of the Republic, and can’t believe her ears when her Mother tells her that the Senator Organa is going to be her mentor in the political arena. _The_ Senator Organa. The man whose speeches she has almost learned by heart, the man her Mother regards as one of their closest friends and allies, the man Mon herself admires more than her own father.

She is nineteen, he is forty, and, in the hindsight, hers is the most blatant crush ever.

***

She wants to make him proud of her, to show him she is learning everything she could hope for, and from the very best. She has outdone herself plenty of time in the past years, only to demonstrate him that he’s doing an amazing job in mentoring her.

He’s always kind enough to ignore her foolish attempts to impress him.

***

She knows he’s married, and of course she knows who his wife is, but still she thinks it had been a terrible injustice, because he deserves better than an arranged wedding with someone he doesn’t love for the sake of the peace on Alderaan.

He speaks so rarely of his wife that she almost forgets she exists, but every time he says something about the Queen, his gaze is different, his voice softer. There have been days, in the recent past, in which Mon Mothma would have dreamed to hear that softness in his voice when talking about her. But she is growing up.

***

She learns of the miscarriages almost by chance. The first time it happens, a very pale Sheltay Retract has to explain her; the other times, she recognizes the symptoms in his odd behaviour. She sees him crumbling under the weight of the loss, time after time, unable to help his wife. She drinks with him in those occasions, and, behind the rage and the desperation, she sees he fiercely loves his wife. She feels his pain, and her working hard is not to impress him anymore, but to help him to deal with the work he has left behind because of the mourning.

He is not her mentor anymore; he is her friend.

***

She’s twenty-two by the time he finally brings his wife to Coruscant to meet the other senators, and she has never seen him more proud and ecstatic. Her teenage crush is almost gone, and the respect she feels for him has reached unbelievable levels.

Meeting Breha changes everything. Beautiful, poised, bearing herself with an innate grace that Mon admires, and even envies, the Queen is perfect at his side. As soon as Mon sees them together, the last relics of her crush are gone forever.

***

She still loves the man.

He’s her best friend, and nothing will ever change their relationship; they help one another, they have the other’s back in the Senate, they spend their time together talking about their loved ones. By then, Mon is part of his family, and he trusts her with his life. He tries to teach her how to drive a speeder, and fails, miserably. She tries to teach him how to cook Breha’s favourite dishes without setting the kitchen on fire, and fails, too.

He is not just her friend anymore; he’s more like the older brother she never had.

***

In the last decades, he has always been at her side, even if he wasn’t materially next to her. She has always known that, had she needed him for an advice or some support, he would always be at the other side of a comlink, ready and willing to help her. Even when she was a renegade – she still is, now it’s even worse – he was at her side, no matter how dangerous it was for him to try to contact her. And he contacted her also for the smallest things, risking his life, often to tell her something about Lieda and Jobin, about Antilles, anything he knew was useful to keep Mon focused on their objectives.

To think that he’s gone forever, and it that way, it’s unbelievable. It’s unbearable.

She looks out of the trasparisteel window of her ship, and can’t believe her eyes, won’t believe her eyes. When General Draven and General Rieekan had told her what had happened, years ago now, she hadn’t believed them. She had screamed, actually. She had screamed at two of her best men outside the privacy of her small, personal cabin, in the middle of the main command bridge, and she had collapsed. She had cried, unable to accept the fact.

Whoever has decided to call it _The Graveyard_ was right. There’s no name more fitting than this for the cold desolation in front of her, for the asteroid field that was once one of the most beautiful planets in the galaxy.

She’s crying, again. She’s glad she has waited until the end of the war against the Empire to come here, because now she has all the time in the world to pay her respects to her family. She’s glad Leia is not here – Mon has been strong for her, but she’s not sure she would have been strong again, had Leia been with her in that very moment.  
She put a hand on the transparisteel window, and feels the coldness of the space against her palm; she’s feeling cold, too, empty; the rage, the pain, are both long gone, and she can only drown in the emptiness she feels inside.

Her best friends were on that planet.

Her husband-to-be.

Her children.

But they had won, in the end; they had paid a monstrous price in human lives, both sides had, but in the end the Rebellion had won.

She knows almost everyone wants her to be the next Supreme Chancellor. The thought worries her, but sometimes she feels something like pride at the idea of having so many people trusting her; true, she’s the only original head of the Rebellion to be still alive, and she has a lot of experience in politics, yet the possibility leaves her dizzy.  
She has been a politician for all her life. Her mother was a politician. Her best friends were politicians, two of them even Queens. Her husband-to-be was a politician. Her mentor was a politician. Her son wanted to be a politician, like his parents. They are all dead, now, and she knows she’s their legacy.

They would have been proud of her – she can almost see Bail’s grin at her designation, hear Breha’s delighted squeal, and see Padmé’s eyes shining with satisfaction. See Antilles looking at her, proud, in the corner, as always, Jobin squeezing Lieda into a hug. It’s almost like they’re with her right now, overlooking the Graveyard.

Mon Mothma smiles at herself. Eventually, she knows it, she’ll drop the “Supreme”.


	2. Sisterhood – Breha (0BBY)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Breha. One of the most beautiful things in the SW Expanded Universe (both the Old and the New Ones) is the fact that the minor characters are always interesting, and sketched out in the best way possible even if they appear only a few times. Breha is one of these cases, one of the best - and the fact that she is the wife of one of my favorite characters has only improved that!
> 
> That said, I am absolutely convinced that Breha, Mon and Padmé were great friends - adding the fact that in my headcanon Mon's lover is Breha's cousin has made everyone a great family.
> 
> Again, sorry for the English, and see you at the end!

 

**2\. Sisterhood – Breha (0BBY)**

_"_ _If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one?_

_Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?"_

— Jodi Picoult

When Mon Mothma was a child, she had wished for a sister for years, in vain.

***

Mon Mothma knows Breha has a sister, and that the Queen loves her very much, it's one of the many things Bail has told her to satisfy her curiosity. She knows it, and sometimes she's jealous of it, because she's the only one without siblings. Padmé has a sister, Breha has a sister, Bail has _three_ of them, and she has none. Which doesn't mean that she feels alone, because it's clear that she's now part of their families in all but formal papers.

***

Breha is not very often of Coruscant – between her duties and her frail health, it's almost impossible for her to leave Alderaan very often – but when she visits the capital world she always finds some time to visit and to go shopping with her.

And they talk. Mon tells her about the Senate, and Breha asks her to retell what her husband has already told her – mostly because somehow Mon knows how to make things funnier, and her amazement at some of her fellow senators' dullness makes her eyes go wide, and puts a note of indignant annoyance in her usually smooth voice that make Breha laughs so much.

On her hand, Breha tells Mon about Alderaan and its politics, and the culture and her family, and the Queen tries not to smile every time her friend struggles not to ask her directly about the Queen's cousin. It's fun, and Breha knows she shouldn't be enjoying herself so much, but Mon blushes in a particularly violent way every time Breha talks about her cousin, and every time Mon asks for more news, more details, more information on how to get to know him better, her cheeks are redder.

For work reasons, obviously. Mon believes that Antilles' work in the cultural sphere can somehow be interesting also for the cultural programs of Chandrila, and therefore, as senator of the planet, she would like to know him and his ideas better.

Just for work, of course. By now, her face is in flame, and her once fair skin clashes marvellously with her fiery red hair. Breha just smiles, she cannot be so pitiless against her already embarrassed friend. It's better for Mon not to know about the bets she, Bail and Raymus have already put on her and Antilles ending up together ( _the Queen is quite sure she's going to win_ ).

***

To reinforce the already good relations between Alderaan and Chandrila, Breha sends her quite often useful snippets on what's happening at her planet's ministry of culture - she is not only the queen, somehow she is also the minister of culture, but then Padmé was the queen of Naboo, and now she's its senator - and suggests that Mon contacts her cousin on Coruscant to organize conferences, meetings, joint exhibitions on the two planets.

Among the suggestions and the facts about the politics of their worlds, something Mon finds useful information – his favourite kind of wine ( _white_ ), his hobbies ( _mainly the theatre_ ), in general his tastes ( _he really likes fashion, and his wardrobe is a solid proof of it_ ). Mon is quite sure Breha is doing the very same thing on the other way around ( _she dearly hopes so_ ), because every time she meets Antilles, he knows exactly what to give her ( _rare springs_ ), where to take her ( _parks and gardens_ ), and what she likes to do in her free time ( _walking, mostly_ ).

***

Breha is the one telling her the Alderaanian diplomacy is trying to find a way to grant the Queen's cousin a divorce without upsetting his wife's family, their absolute monarch, and the ancient noble houses on Empress Teta. She tells her so, in a very unofficial way, only because Mon has started rambling about the fact that she may be, may be not, definitely is, pregnant.

***

Breha is at her side when Mon delivers her firstborn.

It's a nice day, on Chandrila. Mon can hear the soothing sound of the Silver Sea waves not far from the large windows of her room, see the orange reflections of the soft sunset light drawing abstract shapes on the white ceiling above her. She feels curiously calm and relaxed, something unexpected after all the terrible and objectively terrifying stories that the nannies have told her during her months of rest in Hanna City. Breha has snorted at every single one of them when Mon has told her the details, and now the Senator of Chandrila is relying completely on the almost transcendent composure of the Queen of Alderaan.

It's Breha's hand that Mon squeezes in pain when the first contraction hits her, and it's Breha's voice the only thing that keep Mon going through the labour; that, and the thought of becoming a mother – in hindsight, it's painfully ironic that the woman at Mon Mothma's side is a woman unable to have children on her own, and, every time Mon thinks about it, somehow she feels guilty. Yet, on Breha's side there's only unconditional affection and support, and Mon likes to think that's how sisters behave with each other. Having Breha at her side, when not even her own Mother had been able to leave her Governor seat at the Chandrilan Rotunda, makes Mon understand that friends are the family one choses for oneself – and she has never been happier to have chosen Breha.

When her daughter screams for the first time, the baby's father is somewhere outside her room, excited and nervous in equal parts. Mon suspects that Bail and Breha have convinced Antilles to drink something to calm himself down, because he was bordering on hysteria. The fact that he hasn't already stormed the room convinces Mon that Bail must have taken his fellow politician somewhere else, another thing to add to the list of what she's grateful to Bail and Breha for.

"She's a pretty, little girl."

Breha's voice is laced with enthusiasm, and she's smiling satisfied; the delivery has been easy and fast, and Mon feels just fine. Crazy with joy and love for the squirming bundle in her arm, but the pain is gone, and the baby is looking at her, and everything is just perfect.

"She has Antilles' eyes."

The Queen snorts – she's good at it, she can put all the sarcasm in the galaxy in that single sound – and caresses baby Lieda's cheek, "Let's hope it's only the eyes."

***

Breha tells her of the children. Via comlink, in detailed letters, in long holograms from Alderaan, in person on Coruscant or anywhere else, the Queen tells to the Senator of Chandrila about her children, and the Senator cries. Breha sends holograms of Lieda playing the Alderaanian flute, and of Jobin rehearsing his speech for the simulations at the Legislative Youth Programme – it's a cross and delight, a mixed blessing, to see her children's holograms, for Mon knows she won't be able to go to the _Crevasse City Collegium for Young Ladies_ to hear her daughter play, or to go to Hanna City to assist to her son's debate. But she knows that Breha will go, and that she will write her everything about it, and that she will send plenty of recording, just to give Mon the impression to be there with them.

She's not a good mother, Mon knows it, no matter if Breha vehemently protests against it. She hasn't told anyone outside of her family and closest friends of her children, and she has missed her children's first steps and words, their first everything, actually, because she's a powerful politician, because it could put Lieda and Jobin in danger, because no one knows, because someone may hurt them to get to her.

Mon Mothma can't allow it. Rather, she'll be the worst mother in the galaxy.

***

Other times, the Queen tells her about Antilles, and Mon drinks her words as if she was a thirsty woman in an oasis after days in the desert. She listens to Breha, and she learns about Antilles' work in the cultural ministry, about his projects, about how he cares for their children. She finds out he's a doting father, and the discovery makes her happy and sad in equal measure - happy, because she knows that their children are in good hands, that they are well cared for, that they're having the childhood she wants to give them; sad, because she would give up everything she has to stop being Senator of Chandrila, one of the most important political figure of the galaxy, one of the few politicians ready to defy the Emperor, just to be able to go home at least once, to her family, without jeopardizing their safety. But she just _can't_.

"He's a good father."

She smiles at Breha's words – somehow, the Queen always seems to know what to tell her to assuage the Senator's fear and worries.

"I'm glad they're with him," Mon replies, "He will protect them, if something happens."

"Nothing will happen!"

Breha's answer to her fatalism is always piqued and angry; she loves their family, she loves her and Antilles, she loves their children as if they were her own. Some nights, when Mon is alone in her luxurious and empty apartment at the 500 Republic, after the parties, the meetings, the sessions at the Senate, after that last glass of something with Bail, after his goodnight and his sideway glance to let her know he knows something is wrong, some nights Mon thinks that Breha is so kind with them only because one of Mon and Antilles' children could, one day, be chosen as Breha's heir and accede to the throne after her death.

Mon thinks this when she's particularly down in the dumps, and regrets it immediately after. She would be so damn proud if Lieda or Jobin would became Breha's heir.

***

It's another of these depressing nights, and everything is pitch black around Mon Mothma.

Her bunk inside Draven's ship is uncomfortable and small, but she has adamantly refused the private quarters they offered her, accepting only a private couchette, with a private lavatory and a small, fake window, which, days before, she set to show her pictures of her family.

The awareness that the few images on the fake window are all she will see of them from now on brings her to tears again, but this time she's alone, she has no one against whom to assail and scream. She's sorry for how she behaved with Draven and Rieekan when they told her of the Disaster, and now she's alone.

In the complete obscurity of her minuscule cabin, for a moment Mon forgets everyone except Breha, and she bitterly cries for the sister she has lost.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've liked this as much as I loved writing it.
> 
> R&R please, it would made my day!


	3. Friendship – Padmé (19BBY)

 

**3\. Friendship – Padmé (19BBY)**

_“_ _The comfort of having a friend may be taken away,_

_but not that of having had one._ _”_

— Lucius Annaeus Seneca

 

Mon cannot say that she has quickly became friends with Padmé Amidala. At the beginning of their relationship, on her side there has always been a subtle rivalry and the newcomer’s envy towards Padmé - already a queen, now a senator - that has made their first months together quite difficult.

***

That changes in less than half a year. By autumn, Padmé is one of her strongest allies in the Senate, one of her wisest friends, one of the few people with whom Mon knows she can talk freely. And she’s in Coruscant, which means that Mon can go and knock at her door every time she’s feeling down in the dumps – all these times she can’t just go to Bail to let off her steam and ramble about Antilles after their umpteenth argument.

Padmé, like Breha, is always on her side.

***

Years later, while resting safely on Chandrila and enjoying her friend’s visit, Mon’s the first to notice Padmé’s change – mostly because she underwent the same change some years before her friend, mostly because she’s about to give birth to her second child, but Mon notices it, and now her smiles are bigger. She knows Padmé knows she knows, and Bail’s confusion at their behaviour is the best part of Padmé’s first months of pregnancy.

***

They don’t know who’s the father, and they’re not going to ask Padmé about it. Bail suspects something, but he’s curiously and seriously tight-lipped about it. Mon doesn’t really care – Padmé is happy, and Mon respects her privacy; on the other hand, Padmé had never really asked Mon to confirm who her own children’s father was. So they just share knowing smiles behind their friends’ back.

***

Months later, when Bail comms her from Polis Massa to tell her to go to Naboo as soon as possible, Mon knows something is deeply wrong. Worse than the Jedi’s betrayal, worse than Palpatine’s proclamation of the Galactic Empire, now something is wrong on a personal level.

_(It'_   _s not Breha, it can'_ _t be Breha, she and Mon commed just a couple of hours before.)_

When Bails sees her entering the Alderaanian Embassy in Theed, looking for him, he takes her by the elbow and drags her hurriedly into his office, and now Mon is sure something is wrong.

When he looks properly at her for the first time, and Mon can see how tired he is, how worn out and exhausted this assertive man is, she’s afraid.

She’s afraid, but she’s not stupid – she wouldn’t have been the youngest Senator ever, had she only been a pretty face. She knows there can only by one reason for them to meet on Naboo in the Alderaanian Embassy and not at Padmé’s villa, as always. One reason for her friend not being here, with them.

Mon’s not stupid and by now she’s trembling slightly. She blinks, and somehow she finds her voice.

“Where’s Padmé?”

Bail looks away, and Mon knows all is lost.

“What’s happened to Padmé?”

“She died.”

“No.”

“I couldn’t do anything. I’m sorry.”

She’s rage, now. She’s rage and pain and egoism, because she knows the man in front of her is suffering as much as her, if not more – he had known Padmé for more years than she has, after all – but in this very moment she’s made of pain and rage and egoism, and she wants to hurt him for telling her the woman she cares for so much is dead. That her friend is dead.

“You made me come here for a funeral!” her hands have curled into fists on their own accord, and they’re flying towards Bail’s chest, ready to hit him, but he catches them mid-air, and now she’s struggling to free herself from his grasp, “You told me to come here for one of my best friend’s funeral!”

She’s overreacting and somehow deep inside her conscience she knows it, but Padmé is dead, and for the first time the family Mon has created for herself is falling apart, and she can’t stand it. Padmé’s death somehow has made real for Mon that also the others she loves can and will die – it’s irrational, and childish, and a lot of other bad things, but for Mon her family has always been perfect and indestructible, and now Bail is telling her that one of them is dead. What if _he_ is the next? What if it’s Breha? What if it’s Antilles, or their children?

Mon wails, and her knees collapse, and only Bail’s quick hug save her from a ruinous fall to the ground. 

“How?”

Mon feels Bail tenses, and she knows him too well to let him get away with it. He’s an amazing liar, an incredibly skilled politician who can trick almost everyone he meets, yet he can’t fool her, he has never been able to do so. Mon knows he says he can’t lie to the one he loves, and she knows he loves her dearly.

He’s lying to her.

“I don’t know.”

“Liar.”

He sighs and looks down, avoiding her eyes, “I don’t have all the details.”

His hand on her wrist has a small twitch, and Mon knows he’s lying again, but the pained expression on his face, the flash of fear in his dark eyes convince her to desist. He’ll tell her when he’ll be ready.

“What do you know?”

Another twitch, and this times he lets go of her hands, looking slightly worried and embarrassed at the red marks on her fair skin, “They told me she was killed during the Jedi Rebellion.”

“Bollocks,” her voice is deadly quiet and final, and Bail knows it’s better to shut up than to tell her more lies. She pats him gently on the shoulder, not looking at him, her eyes shiny and fixed to somewhere in the distance, next to his shoulder, “You can’t believe that.”

“That’s what the Emperor said.”

She looks at him now, and it hurts her to see her best friend, the man she regards like a brother, in such pain, yet she has to ask, “Your Jedi friend?”

“He died, too. He was a traitor,” there’s a small spam in Bail’s face, near his jaw, and she can see how difficult all of this is, how close he is to losing control, how lying to her is hard for him, “I was wrong about him.”

“I see.”

He stays silent for some long seconds, as if collecting his ideas. The he puts a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes it softly, as to say he’s sorry, “I wasn’t able to comm Breha, nor Antilles. It’s too…” he’s looking for the word, and he throws her a most significant glance, “Dangerous. We’ll have to attend the funeral alone.”

Mon nods. She can’t do anything else, she feels suddenly drained. It’s too much. The Jedi Rebellion, the fall of their Temple, a disfigured Palpatine declaring a Galactic Empire, the Senate cheering for him… she had thought that was enough horror for a lifetime, and then… and then one of her best friend died.

An icy chill suddenly runs down her back as her brain provides her with a piece of information she has somehow overlooked, and this time it’s hers the hand holding Bail’s wrist in a deadly grasp – her slim fingers can be as strong as iron when she wants.

The realization hits her and she’s trembling again, and she thinks of her children on Alderaan – she had talked about them to Padmé, and they were so happy to raise their children together… she feels sick, and she finds herself praying the Force for her suspects not to be true.

“What’s happened to Padmé’s baby?”

He looks away, and the spasm along his jaw is back, stronger than before. He’s about to say something, changed his mind and stays silent. Before she can realise it, she has already risen a hand to slap him out of his reveries. She has never even slapped Antilles - although there had been both the occasions and the reasons - but now she is ready to slap the man in front of her. Bail’s hand catches her wrist again before her palm can reach his face, and he holds her still effortlessly.

“Bail!”

He says nothing and just lowers her hand, resting it gently atop on the other on her chest. Mon is clatching at her own vest now, genuinely on the brink of tears and mad at him. Bail notices that and, with a tiny, stretched smile, fishes out his pocket a tiny envelope, her name hastily scrambled on the white paper. He hands it to her, and then seems to withdraw into himself, his shoulders slumping in a weary pose.

Mon knows the tiny envelope is important, she can see it in the way he’s looking at her hands, in the nervous movement of his own hands at his sides. No, he can’t really lie to her.

“What is this?”

Bail sighs, then looks up at her. To her surprise, he seems almost happy, now. For sure, he’s proud. To her dismay, he’s wearing the same expression he had when he told her Breha’s was expecting their child _(one of the many times, one of the many hopes ended in pain and death)._

“It’s the invitation to my daughter’s presentation to our people.”

Mon feels her eyes itching, sees her vision getting blurred. All of a sudden, the envelope in her hands is the most important thing in the galaxy.

***

 

_(They never talked about it, there'_   _s no need._

_Leia, now a four-years-old running around the halls of Aldera Royal Palace, playing with Lieda and Jobin, she’s the answer to all of Mon’s questions – she already has Breha’s wittiness, Bail’s charm, and Padmé’s eyes.)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing about Padmé and Mon. In my headcanon, the two of them and Breha are good friends (actually, according to the former EU, Padmé and Breha ARE good friends - to the point that Padmé tells Bail to tell Breha she won't be able to join them for a festival on Alderaan, and Padmé and Mon ARE friends, so...), so I wanted to write something about Mon reacting to Padmé's death.   
> We know Mon Mothma was with Bail on Naboo for Padmé's funeral, but we do not know (or, at least, I haven't found a book/comic about it yet) how she reacted to it. Except well, for keeping alive Padmé's ideas and founding the Rebel Alliance which is, in my opinion, a pretty bad-ass way to remember a dead friend and her believes.
> 
> That's it, folks!  
> R&R if you have a moment, it would make me SO happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, first of all, thank you so much for having read all of this. Seriously, thank you.
> 
> Then, for me Bail Organa and Mon Mothma are one of the biggest BROTP in the Star Wars fandom.  
> Like, Mon Mothma entered the Senate as the youngest Senator ever, and Bail Organa became her mentor, then friend. They worked closely together, and believed in the same things. I can easily imagine them plotting together the creation of the Petition of 2000, Mon's passionate nature kept at bay by Bail's longer experience, or drinking something with Padmé after a looooong day at the Senate, or generally having each other's back. I mean, in the former EU, they even ended up prisoners together on the Death Star, and lived to tell the tale. They created the Rebellion, and led it until the Disaster.
> 
> 100% best pals.


End file.
